


The Miseducation of Derek Hill

by Shamelessquestions (KagekitsuneXXX)



Series: Domestic Bliss [8]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Future Fic, Jealousy, M/M, Minor Violence, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1408492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KagekitsuneXXX/pseuds/Shamelessquestions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey get new neighbors and Ian finds he has a lot in common with the 15 year old son. Way too much in common. This wasn't going to end well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Miseducation of Derek Hill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [24_centuries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/24_centuries/gifts).



Derek Hill was cute enough if you went for that sort of thing, Ian supposed. The fifteen year old was going either for the Emo look, or Goth or whatever the hell it was the sad-sack, subversive, loner kids were into these days. Ian didn’t know anymore and he was only twenty-five, but it seems there was some rule that stated you have to stop understanding teenagers the minute you were no longer one. The tall teen was black clad: shoes, jeans and Slayer T-shirt, with shaggy brown hair falling into his face and obscuring his grey eyes.

Ian was busy trying to gauge the boy’s attractiveness because Derek was in the middle of tracking Ian’s boyfriend as Mickey moved around the apartment and Ian was only about fifty-five percent sure that the boy wasn’t Mickey’s type. Derek had been dragged to their apartment by his mother, Barbara, who had come over to introduce herself, having newly moved into their building and onto their floor. She came bearing a crap-load of cookies and the bubbliest attitude imaginable.

“Hi, new neighbors!” she had said as she thrust the huge container of cookies at Ian, “I’m Barb, and this is my sweet little boy, Derek…”

“I’m not a little boy, mom, I’m almost sixteen,” the teen had mumbled automatically. He didn’t seem interested in Ian, the visit or anything in particular. His mother had rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

“Derek’s going through a little bit of a gothic phase,” she whispered conspiratorially.

“I’m not Goth either, mom, Jesus.”

Ian was just taking the whole thing in, not even having had a chance to get a word in edgewise. Finally, they had both looked at him expectantly, and he managed to sputter out his name and invite them in.

“Oh, your apartment is lovely, Ian, so cozy,” Barb floated over to the couch and her son slouched behind her, “do you live on your own?”

“No, I’m here with my boyfriend,” Ian nodded towards pictures on the end-table closest to the visitors. Barb cooed over the pictures and Derek did a double take.

“Your boyfriend?” Derek’s eyes had widened a little when Ian nodded and turned back to stare at the picture of the couple at Rockefeller Center. “You mean like, you’re gay?”

“Derek…” Barb hissed in warning and elbowed her son. Ian didn’t mind in the least, having a good guess as to why the boy was suddenly interested. Spotting the scared and confused was practically second-nature to Ian now. When Mickey finally came, Ian’s guess was confirmed pretty damned quick. Derek’s eyes fastened onto Mickey and didn’t move from the brunet as long as he was in sight.

“Mickey, this is Barbara and Derek. They just moved in to Ms. Havisham’s apartment,” Ian explained. Ms. Havisham was actually Mrs. Hibbert, who had kept slipping them gay conversion therapy pamphlets under their door. They tried not to celebrate too hard when the New York winters finally chased her miserable old ass to Florida.

“Hey,” Mickey greeted and flashed a smile, which was the exact moment Ian later pinpointed that Derek fell in love. Ian could not roll his eyes hard enough.

“Well, I’m having a little housewarming party this weekend, and I would be delighted if you two could come,” Barb sparkled until the two men nodded. She finally waltzed out, dragging her suddenly lead-footed son behind her.

“Well that was special,” Mickey said as he went off to get ready for a shower. Ian snorted in response; if only Mickey knew.

* * *

Ian was alone and bored at the housewarming party since Mickey had overtime at work. Barb was flitting from guest to guest, stuffing people with one pile of homemade finger food after another. He and Mickey agreed that Barb was the second incarnation of Batshit Sheila, which was extra wacky seeing as Sheila was still alive. Then again, that much crazy was hard to contain to one person. He chatted with some of his neighbors until Derek honed in on him.

“So, um, you and Mickey huh?” Derek affected his best nonchalant air, which was crap at best and hilarious at worst.

“Yep!” Ian just had to see where this was going.

“Guess it was a case of opposites attracting, huh?”

“How do you figure?” Ian raised an eyebrow.  
”You know, you seem to have the whole clean cut slice of Americana thing going, and Mickey seems more, I don’t know, urban and gritty,” Derek shrugged and sipped his punch.

Oh this little bitch thinks he’s cute, trying to sneak in a stealth insult pass the clean cut Americana boy. Ian only smirked.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Ian said simply and Derek looked thoroughly unconvinced. A few minutes later, Mickey materialized next to Ian. Derek’s snark disappeared and the teen went back to being red-faced and tongue-tied. Mickey greeted Derek briefly and then knocked on Ian’s bicep like a door. “Let’s go.”

Derek panicked, “but like, you just got here though!”

“Yes, Mickey, you just like totally got here!” Ian simply could not resist and grinned when Mickey looked at him askance.

The brunet gave Derek an apologetic shrug, “sorry man, I did double time today and I’ve got to head out early again tomorrow. I need to hit the hay,” Mickey turned to Ian and gave him one of the many looks he had in his extensive arsenal, “so come read me my bedtime story.”

“Okay,” Ian grinned and handed a gaping Derek his dish, “tell your mom later.”

* * *

Ian got off the elevator in time to see Derek emerging from his apartment, blushing and smiling beatifically. The teen went into his own apartment without even noticing Ian watching him. Ian bit the inside of his cheek and headed into his apartment. Mickey was busy washing up dishes and Ian gently pushed the door back. He snuck up on the older man and bit softly into his shoulder.

“Douchebag,” Mickey greeted and Ian grinned into the soft material of his partner’s t-shirt.

“Bastard,” Ian backed off and leaned against the counter behind Mickey, “was Derek just here?”

“Yeah,” Mickey nodded at a new container of baked goods on the counter next to him, “I’m telling you, that woman’s nuttier than a fruit cake. Who cooks this much?”

Ian could care less about Barb and her proclivities. “Derek say much? He’s such a quiet, intense kid.”

“Not much he just kinda hovers, weird kid” Mickey shrugged, “he was telling me about some of the music he likes though. He’s into something called Horrorcore?” Mickey looked back at Ian and scrunched his face, “never heard of that shit, but he said he’d make me some mix tapes.”

Ian rolled his eyes so hard, his head lolled back. The little reprobate was actually trying to woo his boyfriend. It would be hilarious if it weren’t so painfully familiar—him at fifteen, intense and infatuated, giving his favorite music to Kash in the hopes it would draw them that much closer. Right now, it was enough to nauseate him.

“You gonna listen?”

“Said I would… you don’t want to hear what shit called ‘horrorcore’ sounds like?”

Ian snorted softly and went quiet, mulling over the drama that was a fifteen year old, cautiously gay boy with an older man in his crosshairs. He snorted again before pushing off the counter and plastering himself to his boyfriend, slowly slipping his hands beneath Mickey’s shirt. The brunet continued washing up the last of the dishes and ignored Ian until a warm hand was stuck down his sweatpants.

“Gallagher,” Mickey warned, “do we need to have the good touch/bad touch conversation right now?”

“I’m your man, aren’t I?” Ian breathed into Mickey’s ear, relishing the feel of the cock hardening in his hand, “there’s no bad touching here.”

Now it was Mickey’s turn to snort, “oh really?”

Ian stopped stroking him long enough to grip him by his waist with both hands and turned him around. Mickey stared back at him in challenge, shooting Ian the same flirty smirk that always spelled trouble later on. Ian pressed his forehead to Mickey’s and shoved his hand down the brunet’s pants once again, resuming his earlier actions. Mickey’s breath stuttered a little and Ian’s lips hitched a little higher in triumph.

“You’re mine,” he squeezed the base of Mickey’s erection, pulling a heated hiss from his boyfriend, “I’ll touch you when I want, where I want and however I want.”

Mickey gave a ragged moan as Ian’s thumb slid over his slit. He bit down on his lip to try and control his heavy breathing, “that right, Firecrotch? You own me now? Keep thinking that way and you’re gonna run into problems.”

Ian just raised an indolent eyebrow in response. Mickey broke first, grasping the back of Ian’s head and dragging him into a kiss. It deepened and intensified quickly, until Ian was gripping Mickey’s hips tightly and grinding against him. Mickey pulled back abruptly, breaking the kiss before shoving Ian roughly away from him.

“So what, you’re gonna just fuck me against the sink like some animal, or can I use my bed like a human being?”

Ian only grinned and raised his eyebrows suggestively while his heart raced, “we could do both.”

His partner only rolled his eyes and headed towards their bedroom, peeling his shirt off along the way. “Fuck that, we’re fucking in the bed. I’ve been on my goddamn feet all day.”

By the time Ian got in the bedroom, Mickey was naked and settling against the pillows, lube in hand. The brunet frowned at Ian disapprovingly. “You haven’t even taken your fucking coat off yet?”

“I’m sorry if I can’t get naked in record time like my slut of a boyfriend,” Ian teased, though he was doing an outstanding job of speed stripping.

“Now I’m a slut, huh? I’m finding out all sorts of wonderful things about myself today,” he tossed the bottle of lubricant at Ian, who caught it and immediately squeezed some onto his fingers.  He settled purposefully between Mickey’s legs and without further ceremony began sucking off his boyfriend.

Mickey sighed deeply, lay back in bed and ran his fingers through the cropped red hair. His hips jerked up into the wet heat of Ian’s mouth, just as the first slicked finger pushed into him. Before long, Ian finished stretching him and was crawling over him, trailing kisses over his abs, up his chest and into the crook of his neck. Ian lined himself up, preparing to push himself into Mickey with abandon, only for his partner to put a restraining hand on his chest.

“No, you lay back,” Mickey’s lusty, playful grin was firmly in place and Ian obeyed immediately, completely charmed. The brunet straddled his boyfriend quickly and positioned himself atop Ian’s erection. He sank down slowly, taking Ian in a couple inches before raising himself back off again. Ian’s hips jerked, unwilling for the contact to break, but Mickey forced him back down with a firm hand to his chest. Again, Mickey lowered himself, reaching halfway before he reversed direction and almost lifted clear of his lover.

“Fuck Mick,” Ian breathed out under the exquisite torture.  He ran his hands up from the pale hips, up Mickey’s chest and back down again to squeeze the brunet’s ass. Mickey grabbed Ian’s hands and brought them both to his lips while he plunged down again, finally fully seating himself on Ian’s cock.

Mickey beamed down at Ian, who lay flushed and panting beneath him. “You like that?” Mickey rocked forward and dragged a ragged moan out of Ian. “Yeah, you like that.” Mickey pushed forward in a sudden movement, pinning Ian’s hands above his head. Green eyes popped open and Ian looked up to see Mickey grinning raw mischief at him. “I think that’s the last of your touching privileges for today.”

Ian wasn’t sure what was happening until Mickey started riding him, slowly at first, warming into the action. Ian tried to shift his hands out of Mickey’s grasp in order to grip his lover’s hips the way he always did, but Mickey didn’t loosen his hold in the slightest and Ian finally caught onto the game. “The fuck, Mick?” Only that same malevolent grin in response and Mickey sighed, rocking just a little faster as Ian squirmed beneath him.

Ian waited a while, enjoying the feel of Mickey’s tight heat around him and hoping that his boyfriend was going to loosen his grip soon and abandon his game, A couple minutes passed and no such luck, which was when Ian experienced an odd and accelerated version of the Kübler-Ross stages of grief. First, there was denial.

“You can’t seriously keep this up,” Ian panted, eyes locking with Mickey’s, while the brunet bit his own lip so hard, his face was dimpling. Mickey only raised his eyebrows playfully and picked up a little more speed. Ian thrust upwards, making them both moan out loud. “You’re going to have to let me go, let me touch you. Jesus fuck, Mickey!”

Then there was a brief flash of anger when Mickey didn’t relent, but only stared down at him, not backing down in the slightest. Ian’s hands were tingling to the point of burning with the need to touch his lover. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Come on!”

Mickey defused that easily, though. He bent forward and shut Ian up by plunging his tongue into Ian’s mouth. The redhead warmed to the kiss immediately, momentarily forgetting his restrictions until Mickey pulled back and left him bereft. So then came the bargaining.

“Is this because of the ‘whenever, wherever I want’ thing? Because you know I was just kidding around,” Ian made another aborted attempt to free his wrists and Mickey chuckled, getting drunk on his sexual power, “for fuck’s sake, just let me up already. What do you need me to do?”

Mickey was flat out laughing maniacally now, his grip still tightening on Ian’s wrists as he now rode his boyfriend with wild abandon. Beneath him, Ian was unraveling into a moaning mess.

“You wanna touch me, Firecrotch?” Mickey grunted and Ian nodded helplessly, “how bad?”

“Bad…bad, for fuck’s sake!”

“You gonna suck my dick whenever and wherever I want?” Sweat was pouring off Mickey from the effort of keeping his lover under control while driving him crazy at the same time.

“Fuck yes, anything, fuck!” Ian was unraveling completely into a mess beneath Mickey, who only licked his lips and leaned forward to bury his face in the damp of Ian’s neck.

“Well tough shit.” Mickey raised himself back up and resumed his frantic pace, clearly determined to see his game through to the end.

Ian’s depression over the fact was pretty fleeting, but the acceptance was sweet as his moans and yells mingled with Mickey’s. He angled his hips and thrust upwards, seeking and finding that spot that had Mickey’s gasping and shuddering around him. Ian couldn’t touch, but he could look, and his eyes ate up the glistening skin and the leaking cock on top of him. He licked his lips, focused on the clouded blue eyes and slammed into Mickey again.

“Fuck your fucking cock, man,” Mickey gasped, feeling himself go to pieces. The game was up and his orgasm was rushing up to him. He let go of Ian’s hands so he could stroke himself with one hand and caress Ian’s face with the other. He dropped forward to pull Ian into a biting kiss.

Ian didn’t miss a beat. He wrapped an arm around Mickey and flipped him over, slamming him into the bed as he tapped into his inner caveman.

“Anytime…anywhere…anyhow, Mickey,” Ian grunted, punctuating each word with an extra hard thrust as he rammed into Mickey furiously. He knocked Mickey’s hand away and stroked his partner towards the edge, bracing one arm above the brunet’s head. Mickey’s unfocused eyes rolled back in his head and he dragged Ian down. They came hard, groaning into each other’s mouths.

This was exactly why the one other unstifled moan was quite noticeable. Ian and Mickey froze at the strange sound. They looked at each other, then towards the slightly ajar bedroom door. “The fuck?” They broke apart immediately, and both dragged on their boxers and grabbed their respective baseball bats from either side of the bed. They stepped out into the living room, but there was no one there.

“The hell was that?” Mickey kicked the bathroom door open and came back out looking as confused as ever, “I mean you heard it too right?”

Ian didn’t have to guess what happened. The new batch of cookies resting on the end table next to the door clued him in quickly. He headed over to the door and checked it, remembering that he hadn’t actually taken care to lock the door after he had come home. He had been too distracted by Derek and Mickey to remember his safety protocols, and clearly someone had taken the unlocked door as an invitation.

“Fucking weird,” Mickey muttered, relaxing his grip on his bat and heading back into the bedroom, “got me out here covered in jizz, fucking up my afterglow.”

Mickey disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Ian standing over the freshly made baked goods. Clearly he was going to have to have a talk with that kid before he went all “Single white female” on their asses. Besides, no one fucks up their afterglow.

* * *

The next day, Ian, with Barb’s containers in tow, was knocking on her door. “Ian, what a lovely surprise!” Before he could even respond properly, he was ushered in. Derek, who had been sprawled on the couch before the TV, noticeably tensed.

“I came to return your Tupperware, Barb. You’ve really being spoiling us,” Ian beamed at her and she blushed prettily.

“It is nothing, I love cooking and you boys look like you could use some home cooking every so often,” she gasped as if the best idea in the world had just occurred to her, “I am just finishing up dinner and I made a lot. Would you like me to make you and Mickey a plate?”

“I would actually love that,” Ian smiled winningly, “thank you, Barb. I’ll just hang out with Derek here.”

Barb giggled and flitted off and when Ian could hear her focused humming in the kitchen, he went to stand before Derek.

“What?” the teen groused as he hunched himself trying to be as small as possible.

“So, enjoy the show yesterday?” Ian rolled his eyes when Derek blinked at him in terrible faux innocence, “don’t even try to bullshit me, the cookies and your voice cracking moaning gave you away.”

Derek blanched, “I knocked and the door swung open. I was only delivering the cookies, I didn’t mean to-”

“Yeah, look. I get it; I do, on so many levels. If you have questions or you need to talk, we’ll help you out, but understand this; Mickey and I are not a peep show. So try and dial back the deviance there, Jeffrey Dahmer. There is way too much free porn on the net for you to be getting your rocks off in my apartment. Got it?” Ian raised a brow until Derek nodded stiffly. He drove his point home. “The next time I catch you in my home uninvited and/or unwanted, we’re gonna have problems.”

* * *

Ian, scary as he might be on occasion, was hardly a worthwhile deterrent to a boy in love. Derek knocked nervously and stared blankly when Mickey opened the door.

“Hey man,” Mickey greeted, “wassup?”

It occurred to Derek then that maybe he should have had a game plan beyond going over when he knew Ian was out. He stared wordlessly, mind wiped clean and palms sweaty, until Mickey started looking at him funny.

“Sugar!” Derek blurted out and Mickey could only blink and wait. “Sugar…my mom,” he struggled, “she’s out. Can I get some?”

“Ah, okay Sheriff of Rottingham, I gotcha.” Mickey headed into the kitchen and Derek followed closely behind him.

“You like that movie?” the teen asked hopefully.

“I love anything with Mel Brooks’ name on it,” Mickey told him. “Even the fucking Elephant Man.” If Derek had a tail, it would be wagging.

“Me too! ‘Dracula, dead and loving it’ is my favorite.”

“‘Young Frankenstein,” Mickey offered as he tried to figure out how to go about lending someone sugar. He thought shit like that only happened in the movies.

“We should totally do a Mel Brooks marathon one day,” Derek practically salivated when Mickey seemed warm to the idea.

“I’m down for it. Ian doesn’t know any of his movies, which is completely insane. We’ll make a convert out of him.”

Derek stayed quiet on that one, “hey, did you listen to the music I gave you?”

“Yeah, and I’m surprised. I ended up liking some of that shit. Some of it’s pretty hardcore, yeah, but so is life I guess.” Mickey shrugged noncommittally while love bloomed to bursting in the heart of his young swain. He nodded to a container of sugar, “that enough for your mom?”

“I like you a lot,” the words came out in a tumbled rush and Mickey could only blink in confusion.

“What?”

Words could never do what actions can, so young Derek gathered his courage, grabbed a very confused Mickey by the shoulders and planted one on him.

The kiss actually lasted a bit, with Mickey frozen stock-still, trying to make sense of what was going on in his facial region. Having not met with any resistance, the teen continued pressing his lips against the warmth of Mickey’s own. Finally he pulled back and looked dreamily at a shell-shocked Mickey. “I really like you.”

Mickey then said the worst possible thing an earnest young boy with his heart on his sleeve could hear: “Aw, kid…”

Derek bristled immediately, “I’m not a kid!” he retorted defensively.

“No, what you are is a sneaking, backstabbing little pervert!”

Derek and Mickey both turned in surprise at the sound of Ian’s voice. The redhead dumped the groceries on the floor and started peeling off his coat.

“Oh hey,” Mickey greeted simply before pointing at Derek, “I was just giving him some sugar.”

Mickey immediately saw the error of that, for while it was the absolute truth, it was somewhat lacking in its phrasing. Ian’s eye twitched before laser-locking on Derek. The redhead gave one primal roar before going after a petrified Derek like a rocket.

“Oh shit,” Mickey let out as Ian used his long legs to step easily over the back of the couch as a shortcut. The brunet took off and tackled Ian back onto the couch and tried to keep him there. Ian lost his mind. He tried to shove Mickey off and wriggle free from under him. Mickey looked back to see Derek still standing there.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Mickey yelled back to the boy, “Can you fucking go please?”

Ian used Mickey’s momentary distraction to squirm beneath Mickey and fell to the floor. He made a mad grab and latched on to Derek’s ankle. That finally lit a fire under him and with a high pitched scream and a sharp yank that almost sprained his ankle; Derek took off for the door.

“Yeah, you better run you little bitch! Like I don’t know where you sleep!” he struggled under Mickey’s weight, which sat squarely in his back. “I will murder your whole fucking family. You don’t know me!”

Mickey was laughing out loud while Ian cursed and bucked beneath him. With Derek safely away, Ian rounded on his lover instead. Mickey gave him enough leeway to flip over onto his back and Ian glared up him. Mickey had his arms pinned as a precaution and grinned down unapologetically.

“Why’re you looking at me in that tone of voice, Firecrotch?”

“You faithless whore!” Ian spat and Mickey only grinned harder, “You’re fucking kids now? You’re a goddamned pedophile! He’s fifteen!”

“So? I was fucking around with you when you were fifteen,” Mickey pointed out mildly, “so was Kash and half the homos in the North Side if I can remember correctly.” Mickey was almost upended for that, but he managed to retain his seat. “He’s gonna be sixteen in a couple months, we can move to Connecticut then. I’ve been reading up.” Mickey actually had no idea when Derek’s birthday would be, but that was minor detail when teasing your boyfriend. Ian caught him off guard when the redhead rocked up and used his legs to hook Mickey by the throat and yanked him backwards.  

Mickey reacted quickly to wrap his legs around Ian’s waist and reached up to drag his partner’s head down. Their foreheads connected painfully, eliciting a hiss from Ian. Still the younger man stayed locked in place, glaring daggers at his boyfriend who grinned back at him maddeningly.

“Whore,” Ian muttered, forehead still pressed against Mickey’s.

“Freak.”

“Are you fucking him?”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Mickey rolled his eyes used his free hand to unzip Ian’s jeans and slipped his hand inside. “Here’s what I’m fucking.”

“That isn’t going to work,” Ian lied ineffectually, since he was mostly turned on already. “You were kissing him.”

“He was kissing me. Do I look fucking psychic to you? I didn’t know he was going to.” Which Ian knew already, but it’s not as if he could just let a kiss slide. He sighed as Mickey withdrew his hand after getting him to full hardness. The brunet sucked on his lower lip and raised a brow in questioning. They locked eyes for a bit, breathing in tandem. Mickey loosened his hold on the back of Ian’s neck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…” They couldn’t get naked fast enough.

* * *

A few days later, Derek was watching through the keyhole for Ian to head out. Eventually, the redhead passed by, not failing to give Derek’s door a look so nasty, the teen backed away. He ran over to the window and waited until Ian emerged on the street and disappeared out of sight. He waited a few minutes for extra insurance, and before long, he was face-to-face with an amused Mickey.

“Shit, you like to live dangerously, don’t you?” Mickey asked as he went hunting for a cigarette.

“Ian’s still pissed, huh?”

“Just stay out of sight for a couple of weeks. You’ll be fine.”

Derek shuffled his feet nervously and started his apology. “I’m sorry for what I did…”

Mickey sniffed dismissively, “no you’re not. You went for it. You only regret almost getting your ass beat.”

The teen smiled sheepishly before putting on his earnest face. “I think you and I make more sense, Mickey. I mean, if you gave us a chance…”

Mickey sighed and rubbed his cheek tiredly, completely at sea as to how to let down a kid gently. He looked at Derek and his big, sincere grey eyes and tried his best.

“You know we fucked after you ran out of here the other day?” Mickey shrugged at Derek’s horrified face and took a drag of his cigarette. “Last guy before you to try what you did got his ass stomped at a picnic. Then we came home and fucked. Before that was some douche from a bar we go to all the time. I beat the shit out of him in the stairwell of this very building. Guess what we did after that?” Mickey’s smile grew a bit more nostalgic. “Then a while back, Ian was working in this place called the Fairy tale. He was strung out on party favors most of the time, and I sometimes got a little too hammered. Some old queen tried to get too handsy with Ian in an alleyway and we beat the shit out of him. Know what happened next?”

“You fucked?” Derek replied dryly.

“Right next to his broken, bloody, unconscious body. Wasn’t our finest hour, but we were seriously impulse control-impaired. Jealousy fucks, man, they’re like catnip to us.” Mickey clicked his tongue. “I’m not telling you this to gross you out or anything, I’m trying to get you to understand how truly fucked in the head we are. We have ruined each other, a fact we made peace with a long time ago. There’s nobody else for me but Ian, man, and I’m hoping the reverse is true. Kid, I hope you find someone who is your own special brand of fucked up to be with, because it is the greatest thing in the world. But I’m sorry; it’s not me…not for you.”

Derek’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly, trying to find some kind of protest, while imagining a life as some kind of perpetually bloodied sacrifice to Ian and Mickey’s violent forms of foreplay. It was a testament of his attraction to Mickey that he wasn’t sure if that was so bad. Mickey interrupted his thoughts.

“I feel like I should tell you that Ian’s only making a supermarket run because you made him break the eggs last time. He’s probably going to be home any minute.”

Derek decided that he should probably plan his next move from the comfort of his home. He exited the apartment at the exact moment Ian was exiting the elevator. They both came to a standstill and stared at each other. Ian gently set the bag down this time and rotated his shoulders and flexed his neck. Derek backed up a little and started banging frantically on the door for Mickey.

“The fuck?” Mickey opened the door just in time and Derek barreled past him, making a beeline for their bathroom with Ian right at his heels. The teen managed to lock himself in while Ian went crazy slamming his body against the door and screaming bloody murder. Mickey only sighed and went to retrieve his eggs from the outside of the elevator. He’d play rescuer and referee after breakfast.


End file.
